


taboo

by miehczyslaw



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Gen, Pre-Canon, angst? in a tg fic? its more likely than u think, very very slight allusion to incest but. unilateral too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 02:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miehczyslaw/pseuds/miehczyslaw
Summary: He hates her for being synonym of his slavery.





	taboo

Ayato loves her.

It starts more or less like this.

X

He loves her with all his innocent essence of light that is ready to melt, which illuminates them in the black nights— and days. He loves her in her dress full of mud and grime (fraying her smile a little) and her shoes that don’t know where to step to address them to a less daunting tomorrow. He loves her with her honest tears as they don’t have a place to return to, tears that stain her cheeks wrapped in a vanished blush.

He loves her with his arms tightened around her neck, holding tightly, almost as if _he wanted to smother_ her.

(because the dead stay and the living leave).

He loves her when they both lean on a cold street wall— drowning in city air, with no lifeguards except the presence of each other. When she is clutching her hair and wandering her fingers to cover Chunta’s crook in her eye, reassuring. When they’re tired of waiting under a tinkling streetlight— for someone who is not coming back.

He loves her while she guides him through the alleys and they look for an apartment or a house or a cardboard box without owner so that they can sleep under a roof. He loves her if they sleep with their bodies very close, grasping her little finger, and if the crying of the pillow has dried already. He loves her when she steals clothes from a clothing store to keep him from looking disheveled, at the expense of the reprobatory looks of adults.

He loves her as they sit in the fountain of a park, with the sun lighting them without discrimination, and admiring their reflections in the water so so crystal clear— both seeming almost as a copy of the other— and if she smiles he imitates her and vice versa.

He loves her when she loads him and runs, and he manages to feel taller.

He _loves_ her.

(because only with her Ayato allows himself the whim of being weak.)

Because they are the Kirishimas. That broken family where Hikari left, Arata accompanied her, Ayato changes at every moment and Touka remains.

X

Ayato still loves her— even if distrust and doubt begin to grow.

And he distrusts her when he claims to her that their parents have died and she must accept it, in a fit of fear and courage. He distrusts her as he waits in a corner, hidden, while she stains her hands (and teeth). He distrusts her while he goings to his first meal by himself. He distrusts her when he admits to himself that human meat is tasty and that the despair of the victim and their cries gives it a great condiment, that he does not regret killing— and that _scares him_. He distrusts her when his laughs disappear, although weak at first, then nonexistent, and since she’s his mirror Touka withers too.

He distrusts her when he finds no comfort in her arms and finds it without seeking it amidst tragedies and massacres. He distrusts her when his resentment to humans grows too much because— “we are not like them, sister,” and she accepts it. Both become person-shaped blades, lethal looks of scorching ice.

Even if all that doubt is insignificant.

 _They’re together_.

Until Mr. Yoshimura comes, and that horrible cafeteria, and the human girl they did not invite: Yoriko.

(And imperceptibly Touka is moving away from him, of what they are).

X

Ayato does not anticipate it. It happens, so suddenly. She confuses him.

She confuses him when they’re no longer two, Touka gets too soft and he stays strong and they break the universal balance. She confuses him on those evenings where he is alone in the house while Touka attends the school and makes friends. She confuses him with her so relaxed attitude when she is fraternizing with the _enemy_. She confuses him by continuing to walk without him, no matter how damn hard he tries to reach her and take her by the hand so they do not separate and— “Don’t abandon me, not you, _anyone but you_ ,” and he’s only capable of snapping and tearing things apart.

She confuses him with the disappointment and impotence photographed in her way of looking at him.

“I'm still here for you, Ayato, I just...”

She confuses him when he gets involved in fights without her company.

She confuses him. _So. Fucking. Much_.

(and for that reason he murders— hoping to kill his emotions too.)

Although he fails.

Of course he fails.

Poor naïve child.

X

Without another alternative Ayato protects her— from the danger _he_ represents.

He protects her and treats her with indifference. He protects her and isolates himself, sinking himself with his demons in exchange for them to not touch her under any circumstance. He protects her by running away from that house, taking her in his memory, so he doesn’t lose his home. He protects her by keeping her as pure as possible, so she doesn’t need to return to those desolate corners that they frequented when they were kids. He protects her by denying her, and all that she means. He protects her by joining Aogiri.

He protects her because he promised that to their father.

He protects her— hidden in the darkness— and the darkness swallows him and devours him and then there is nothing left, only remains of him.

So he sees her in his dreams.

(but dreams are nothing but shadows.)

And she is so stupid to dare all the Aogiri— for one boy, _for another boy_. So Ayato kicks her and frowns, Touka collapses.

X

He _hates_ her.

He hates her for giving up on him, but fighting for that Ken Kaneki, even facing her own family to rescue him. He hates her for being the daughter of Arata and Hikari and inheriting their kindness, hidden under apathy. He hates her for her scent, the scent of dead living and living death. He hates her for not staying where she belongs and going to something as rotten as Aogiri knowing how simple it’s to corrupt herself here. He hates her because Touka doesn’t know his reasons and whys. He hates her because when he looks at her face he thinks _of them_ and of himself. He hates her because they look alike and they are so different.

He hates her for being so close— and yet too far. He hates her because she still represents, even after many years, his only weakness.

He hates her and hits her against the pavement and brutally pulls her wings, _one feather at time_ , between scream and scream. Making it impossible for her to fly, being trapped on land, just like him. He hates her with force, with desire, without effort.

He hates her for being synonym of his slavery.

(she has him trapped in a cage without bars— forged in bone and flesh.)

X

It ends more or less like this.

“Silly sister— I’m going to hurt you.”

(I’ve only wanted to love you.)


End file.
